If Wishes were Horses
by Bron
Summary: Sequel to If Wishing made it so, Bobbys thoughts


Title: If Wishes Were Horses  
  
Author: Bron (bronwyn_00@excite.com)  
  
Authors Notes/Summary: I don't know if anyone remembers but awhile ago I  
wrote a story called If Wishing Made it So. It dealt with Lindsay's  
feelings and emotions after being stabbed. This story has been sitting  
partially completed on my computer ever since I posted that story and I  
finally got around to finishing it. It's a sequel to IWMIT and this time is  
told from Bobby's Point of View. Both stories are set before Losers Keepers  
and don't really relate to that storyline at all. If anyones interested in  
reading the first one I looked it up it's message No. 1531.  
  
Thanks to Jewel for her wonderful comments, and Sahiti and Lisa for their  
encouragement with this story it really helped.  
  
If wishes were horses  
________________________________________________________  
  
I don't know what I'm doing here.  
  
I feel uncomfortable, like I'm out of my element. When I'm in the  
courtroom, I know what to say, and how to act, but I have no experience in  
a doctors office. No safety net. Do I sit? Do I stand? Do I pace? I feel  
like doing all three at the same time, which isn't possible, so I settle  
for sitting and fidgeting a lot. It's a good compromise.  
  
Doctor Hurley sits across from me, an air of calmness in contrast to my  
edginess. She wears an expression of understanding that's kind of  
comforting. If I needed a Doctor (which for the record I don't) I guess  
she'd be a good one to choose. It's kind of reassuring to me that she's  
looking after Lindsay.  
  
"Bobby" she says, with that New England accent that only people who've  
lived here their entire lives ever really perfect, "You should calm down, I  
won't hurt you"  
  
I look around the room again "I know, I'm sorry, I'm just…."  
  
"Uncomfortable?" she says "Out of you're element?" What, is the woman a  
mind reader? If anything the thought of that just serves to make me even  
more uneasy. "This is your first time with a psychiatrist?" I nod "Well why  
don't you take a deep breath and tell me why you're here"  
  
Maybe she can't read minds after all, I take the breath she recommended  
"I'm not here about me" I think that's an important point I need to  
clarify. She waits, so I continue "It's about Lindsay"  
  
She nods like she was expecting that answer, and leans forward "What about  
Lindsay?"  
  
"Well…" I pause, because I'm honestly not sure how to phrase it, how to put  
my fears into words. "She's regressing I guess"  
  
She raises an eyebrow "In what way?"  
  
"She's getting distant again, I think she's going back into her shell, I  
don't know how to bring her out of it"  
  
"And you think I can help you?"  
  
"Well she talks to you" She nods "And so I thought, maybe you could tell me  
what was wrong and how I could go about fixing it"  
  
"Bobby" she fixes me with a direct stare "You know I can't do that. You're  
a lawyer, you know that Doctor/Patient privilege is every bit as strong as  
Attorney/Client privilege"  
  
I really did know she was going to say that, but I figured it was worth a  
try anyway "I just want to help her"  
  
She nods "I understand that, but the answers you need aren't going to come  
from me, they need to come from Lindsay"  
  
"And if she won't talk to me?" I ask.  
  
"Maybe you aren't trying hard enough"  
  
Standing up, I give in to the urge to pace. "What more am I supposed to  
do?"  
  
"That's a good question" she says "What have you done so far?"  
  
I frown at her "What do you mean?"  
  
"Well" she's looking up at me "She showed you her scars" I nod, wondering  
what Lindsay's told this woman about that night. "How did that make you  
feel?"  
  
"Great" it was the first word out of my mouth, but then I think maybe it  
wasn't the best choice "Umm, I mean…" I fumble trying to find something I  
think will be more appropriate.  
  
"It's okay, Bobby" she says, rescuing me "You were relieved"  
  
I nod "Yes"  
  
"And what did you do?"  
  
I give her a puzzled look "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, how did you react, this is obviously a big moment for both of you,  
what did you do? What did you say?"  
  
I pause for a moment, thinking "I honestly don't remember what I said, I  
guess I told her I loved her, I gave her a hug"  
  
"And then?"  
  
"We ahhh… we…." I know I'm blushing.  
  
"You made love?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.  
  
I nod "Yes"  
  
"And then?"  
  
"And then what?"  
  
"Did you talk?"  
  
I falter, I know I should say yes, because standing here, playing back that  
night, I know that's how it should have ended. But lying wont do anyone any  
good "No"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
I recommence my pacing "I don't know, Lindsay seemed to want to go to  
sleep, and she'd been through so much that day. She'd been to see you and  
then showing me her scars…. I know how hard that was for her, so I didn't  
want to push her"  
  
"Was it hard for you?"  
  
I stop walking and turn to face her "What?"  
  
"Well, seeing her scars, I can't imagine it was easy for you either?"  
  
"No it was okay" she raises an eyebrow in question, so I clarify "I'd seen  
them before. When I stayed over Lindsay liked to keep the room dark, but I  
could still see them" I shrug "It seemed important to her so I never made a  
deal out of it, but I already knew what they looked like"  
  
She seems to accept that answer "And after that night? You say she's  
regressing?"  
  
"Yeah, I thought….." I trail off, collecting my thoughts  
  
"What?"  
  
"I thought things would be alright, we'd taken this big step and things  
would just move on from there, then three nights later she wakes up  
screaming from a nightmare, and I ask her what's wrong and she wont tell  
me" I slump down into the chair in defeat "She's lying there in a cold  
sweat, shaking, and she says it was nothing, that I should go back to  
sleep"  
  
"And you let it go at that?"  
  
I nod, and she leans forward "Bobby do you think that maybe some of  
Lindsay's reluctance to tell you what she's feeling, might come from the  
fact that she knows you don't want to discuss it?"  
  
I look at her surprised "You think this is my fault?"  
  
"That's a good question, do you?"  
  
"No" my answer has a definite defensive tone to it "Of course not"  
  
She sits back "Why don't you lead me through the events of the stabbing,  
from your perspective?"  
  
I spring out of the chair again, and resume my pacing "You know I really  
didn't come here to talk about me"  
  
"No you came here to talk about Lindsay, but I can't help you with that. I  
can however listen, if you feel there's something you need to talk through"  
  
"I should go" I say, picking up my coat "This was a mistake"  
  
"No Bobby" She stands as well "I don't think it was, do you really think  
you're helping Lindsay by keeping everything inside, by thinking if you  
don't discuss the problems they'll go away. I can tell you from experience  
that that never works"  
  
She stands there, gauging my reactions, and I sigh, and drop my coat back  
over the chair "You know, there's not much I can tell you, I wasn't even  
there"  
  
"Where were you?" She asks, settling back into her chair.  
  
I so don't want to relive that night again, the fear, the anxiety, the  
guilt. I want to push it all away but I'm faced with the Doctors unwavering  
stare, and there's nowhere to hide. "I was at the courthouse"  
  
"You were running late?"  
  
I want to say yes, I want to be able to blame everything on a case that ran  
over, or bad traffic but I can't "No, I was killing time"  
  
"Why"  
  
I draw a deep breath, before continuing, I can feel my skin starting to get  
clammy "Helen…. that's Lindsay's best friend, wanted us to go on a double  
date, with some guy she just met, and I didn't want to go. I thought the  
later I got there the less time we'd have to spend out" Her expression  
remains neutral, and I'm glad, I don't think I could take a disapproving  
look right now.  
  
Regardless of that I turn and walk towards the window, the glass there has  
this strange reflective quality to it, almost like a transparent mirror.  
And I wonder if that's done on purpose, to force people to look at  
themselves or if it's just one of life's ironies "I thought Lindsay might  
be mad at me, but I was going to make up an excuse, so I stayed around for  
about half an hour wasting time, and when I got to the office she was lying  
there….."  
  
I can't look at myself anymore so instead I close my eyes, an image of  
Lindsay lying in a pool of her own blood immediately comes to me, and I  
snap them open again. It appears there really is nowhere to hide here. I  
slowly turn around. Dr Hurley's regarding me quietly "What went through  
your mind when you opened the door?"  
  
"I thought she was dead" My voice is really hoarse, my throat dry. "I stood  
there for a moment, and I thought she must be dead, and then I saw her  
move, so I rushed to her side and I called an ambulance…." I realise I'm  
holding my hands out in front of me, face up and I look down at them,  
remembering them covered with Lindsay's blood. "I put pressure on the  
wounds and waited for them to arrive" I shake my head. "The rest is a blur"  
  
"Is it really?"  
  
I'm still looking at my hands, mesmerized by them. It's as if they're  
stained with blood again, a deep crimson color that no amount of washing  
will clean.  
  
"Bobby?"  
  
"What?" I drag my gaze around to look at her, but I'm not really seeing  
anything.  
  
"Is it really a blur?"  
  
Images come to me unbidden. They play before my eyes like some virtual  
reality I cant escape from.  
  
Lindsay lying on the floor covered with blood.  
  
My hands reaching out to stop the flow.  
  
Dragging the phone to the floor to call the ambulance.  
  
Sitting beside her on the way to the hospital, clutching her hand.  
  
Watching as they cut open her clothes and more blood pours out of her body.  
  
Sitting in the waiting room alone, staring at my hands.  
  
My hands covered with Lindsay's blood.  
  
"I don't want to remember" I say aloud.  
  
"But you can't stop yourself, can you?" She asks. I shake my head. "What is  
it you don't want to remember?"  
  
"The blood" I say simply. "I don't want to remember the blood"  
  
She doesn't say anything, so I turn back around to her holding out my  
hands. "Her blood is on my hands Doctor. If I'd gotten there earlier, she  
never would have been in that office. I was being selfish, and Lindsay paid  
the price for it."  
  
"Why haven't you talked to Lindsay about this?"  
  
I can't do this, I'm not strong enough. I absolutely have to get out of the  
room now. I turn blindly towards the door. "Bobby?" Her voice draws me back  
in.  
  
"I'm afraid" I whisper. Scared that if I say the words to loud, I'll  
shatter.  
  
"Of what?" Her response is equally quiet.  
  
"That she won't forgive me. That she'll realize what a selfish person I am  
and that she'll leave me."  
  
"She loves you Bobby"  
  
My mind flashes back to an earlier conversation with Father Patrick (`You  
believe God kills the people you love? That's your theory?' `That's my  
history')  
  
I close my eyes "That just makes it worse Doc"  
  
I can tell she doesn't understand. I don't blame her I don't really  
understand myself.  
  
"Why?" She asks.  
  
I give her the only answer I can. "It's my history"  
  
* * *  
  
Lindsay's in the kitchen when I get home. She doesn't hear me come in and I  
stand there watching her for a moment, waiting for her to notice me. She's  
reading a cookbook but at some point she must sense my presence because she  
looks up and smiles. "Hey"  
  
I walk over and place a light kiss on her forehead. "Hey yourself"  
  
"How long were you standing there?"  
  
I shrug "Not long" in an attempt to turn the conversation away from me, I  
glance down at the book "What are you reading?"  
  
She looks at the book as well "I was just trying to think of something  
different to make for dinner" She takes a small step back "But I wasn't  
sure what time you were going to be home, so…."  
  
She turns her face away but not before I catch something in her expression.  
A flash of fear that was both fleeting but intense. And then the full  
weight of my actions settle on me. I was late again, she was alone and she  
didn't know where I was because I didn't tell her. I was being selfish  
again and she was the one to suffer.  
  
I wonder if I'll ever learn.  
  
I reach out and run my fingers down her cheek, and watch as she closes her  
eyes. "I'm sorry Lindsay, I should have called"  
  
"No" she says "It's alright, I was just…."  
  
"It's not alright" I say, shaking my head "I really should have called. I'm  
sorry"  
  
She looks up at me and her eyes are the clearest I've ever seen them "I'm  
not a victim Bobby. Please don't treat me like one."  
  
I want to grab her and tell her that she is a victim. A victim to the  
psycho that did this to her, to me and my thoughtless actions, but when I  
look at her I cant. Because she's right, Lindsay's to strong to be a  
victim, despite everything that's happened to her she gets up everyday and  
she functions. What she is, is a survivor. So instead I nod, acknowledging  
her point. "I'm sorry" I say again.  
  
She seems surprised by my answer, as if she was expecting me to challenge  
her, and maybe this morning I would have, but not now. Then she smiles at  
me and I know for once I've said the right thing. I hope I can keep that up  
just a little longer.  
  
"Where were you?" She asks.  
  
Crunch time, I have no misconceptions about exactly how important this  
moment is. My mind flashes back to the night Lindsay first came home after  
speaking to Doctor Hurley. How raw and exposed she felt and how brave she  
was to talk about it anyway. I reach out and take her hand drawing on that  
strength. She gives me a confused look but doesn't say anything.  
  
"I went and saw Doctor Hurley"  
  
She stiffens automatically and attempts to draw her hand away. I tighten my  
hold afraid that if she does, that if she turns away from me now, I wont be  
able to continue.  
  
After a moment she leaves her hand in mine, but her posture doesn't soften.  
"Why?"  
  
"I wanted to help you" I answer.  
  
"Excuse me?" If it's possible she gets even stiffer, this time she succeeds  
in removing her hand. "Did you just say you wanted to help me?" There's a  
strong note of incredulity in her voice.  
  
I cringe at her tone, and realize that my record of saying the right thing  
will have to remain at one sentence. I nod. "By going behind my back and  
trying to betray my confidence with my Doctor?" Her once clear eyes, are  
getting very stormy. This isn't at all how I pictured this conversation  
going, but given my track record I don't know why I'm surprised.  
  
"I'm sorry" I say, figuring it worked for me once, so I may as well give it  
another go.  
  
"You've been saying that a lot since you walked through the door."  
  
Something tells me I'll be saying it a lot more before this nights over.  
Something tells me I deserve to be. "It's true' I say "I really am." I give  
her an imploring look. "Please let me explain."  
  
She considers my request for a moment before finally nodding her head. I  
look behind me then gesture to the living room "Do you want to move in  
there?" I ask, making a vague gesture at the couch.  
  
She nods again, and we both move over to sit down. We're sitting on the  
same couch but I notice she's put some distance between us. "What were you  
hoping to accomplish Bobby?" The hurts still very much evident, but I  
notice something else as well. Curiosity. It gives me hope.  
  
"Ummm" I don't know how to start. "I'm worried about you Lindsay"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you wont talk to me"  
  
Her eyebrows skyrocket "What?"  
  
"About your nightmares" I clarify "And I was worried so I thought that…."  
  
"That if I wouldn't tell you something, Doctor Hurley would?"  
  
It had seemed like such a good idea this morning. I wonder how I manage to  
read situations so wrong. "She didn't tell me anything"  
  
Lindsay gives me a look that basically conveys my stupidity. "Of course she  
didn't." She sees my surprise and a ghost of a smile plays at her lips.  
"She's a professional Bobby, what did you expect? That you could just go in  
there and flash your smile and expect her to tell you everything you want  
to hear. It doesn't work that way."  
  
"So I'm learning" I mutter.  
  
I think she's starting to take pity on me, because her expression is  
definitely softening. "So what did you talk about?"  
  
I knew she was going to ask that question. Lindsay doesn't miss anything,  
so I knew it was only a matter of time before she zeroed in on the  
conversation. However knowing it and preparing for it are two different  
things. I have no easy answer. I'm not one for quips, I wish I was, I'd  
love to lighten the moment, maybe distract from it for a second. But that's  
not me. Instead I just stare at her until it becomes uncomfortable and I  
look away.  
  
She obviously knows me better than I know myself because she just sits  
there and waits until I'm ready. "We talked about me" I say, and it sounds  
terrible to hear the words. I went there to help her but instead talked  
about myself. Lindsay doesn't seem to think so though, that is at least if  
I'm reading her expression right.  
  
She leans forward and there's open curiosity on her face, and something  
else. Compassion. "Do you want to share?"  
  
I close my eyes because this is so much harder than it was today. Doctor  
Hurley's opinion didn't really matter to me, but Lindsay's does, hers is  
everything. How will I go on if she hates me?  
  
"It's my fault Lindsay"  
  
"What is?"  
  
"You're attack, it's my fault." I think I'm shaking, when did that start?  
  
She's surprised again, but she keeps her voice even "How do you figure?"  
  
I stand up and walk over to the other side of the room, if I'm going to  
discuss this I need some distance, "I was late"  
  
She nods. "I know"  
  
Here it comes. "I didn't have to be" I close my eyes, I'm too scared to see  
her reaction.  
  
"Why?" She hasn't moved, even with my eyes closed I can tell that.  
  
"I didn't want to go out with Helen that night, but I didn't want to tell  
you that either, so I thought if I stayed at the courthouse a little longer  
it was less time we had to spend with them. So I stayed there doing  
nothing." I open my eyes and take a deep breath, it comes out more like a  
hiccup. "You were getting attacked Lindsay and I was doing nothing"  
  
She stands up and I flinch, waiting for the torrent of emotion to hit me.  
The anger she must feel, the betrayal, the hatred. I look at the floor.  
"Bobby" She says "Look at me"  
  
It takes me a moment but I finally do. What I see surprises me, because  
instead of the anger and hatred I expect to see, instead there's  
compassion, and sadness. She has tears in her eyes but she's not angry.  
"You've been holding this in all this time?"  
  
I shrug, I'm not sure I trust myself to talk. "You should have told me" she  
says.  
  
"I couldn't"  
  
This seems to make her sadder "Why?"  
  
"Because I thought you'd hate me, and I couldn't stand that"  
  
She walks over until she's standing right in front of me "If I hate  
anything it's this wedge that's being put between us. But I couldn't hate  
you Bobby."  
  
"Forgive me?" I ask, the words tumbling out before I even realize I've  
uttered them.  
  
She blinks in surprise "There's nothing to forgive you for." She reaches  
out and takes my hand, placing it over her stomach where the scars reside  
under her shirt. "You didn't do this to me Bobby, you're not responsible."  
  
But I'm already shaking my head. "No Lindsay, I wasn't there for you that  
night, and because of that I haven't been there for you ever since. Please"  
  
"Okay" She says slowly, and because I think she senses that I need to hear  
it she continues. "I forgive you"  
  
I reach out and pull her tightly against me, my head buried in her neck,  
hers resting on my chest. "Thank you" I mutter against her skin.  
  
She pulls back slightly "We need to talk more, Bobby"  
  
I nod. "Starting now."  
  
Her eyebrows rise again. "I thought we'd already started."  
  
I shake my head. "No Lindsay, you need to start, tell me about your  
nightmares." Worry flashes in her eyes and I add. "Please"  
  
She nods and I lead her back over to the couch, this time she settles down  
in my arms and she starts talking. She tells me all about her nightmares,  
and her fears. Her worries that they may not have caught the right person,  
that people still walk on eggshells around her and how she's scared that  
they think she's not strong enough to handle things anymore.  
  
I pull her close and tell her that she's the strongest person that I know,  
and I watch her smile bloom, because she knows I mean it. Then after awhile  
the conversation starts to change and we talk about our future, our  
wedding, how many children we're going to have, and when we'll have to bite  
the bullet and actually buy a house. Lindsay starts to drift off around 3  
am, and I shift us into a more comfortable position on the couch. She  
settles her head on my chest and succumbs to sleep, and I know she wont be  
having any nightmares tonight.  
  
But I don't go to sleep, instead I hold her against me and listen to her  
steady breathing and think that I've never spent a more wonderful night in  
my life. 


End file.
